


Stars in the Desert

by Hobbitfing



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Have some young Oin!smut, M/M, is there?, there just isn't enough Oin!smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbitfing/pseuds/Hobbitfing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oin thought his husband was dead. His husband thought Oin had abandoned him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars in the Desert

**Author's Note:**

> My wife and I have a headcanon that, when he was young, Oin had a mercenary husband who died. 
> 
> Hopefully we'll eventually write about them meeting, but the short version is: This is set before Erebor fell. Oin is a young healer. A wounded Blacklock came to Oin's apothecary, demanded treatment, refused to give his name, and Oin was completely smitten. They married and travelled together until Oin received news his husband had been killed. Because he never knew the Blacklock's name, Oin named him Khafad (for a Blacklock in a story) and that was the only name he ever knew him by. 
> 
> Many years have passed. Oin is crotchety and alone and proud of it, aaaaaand...scene. 
> 
> (No one really believes Oin was ever married btw...except Nori)
> 
> The archive warning is because Oin is kind of gross and bloodthirsty.

Groin's caravan had just arrived, bringing a fresh supply of herbs for Oin. He was still sorting through the heavy, fragrant bundles, half of which had no label whatsoever and had to be smelled out. He was sweating and exhausted and ready to throw his pestle at anyone who dared approach.

There wasn't a knock at his door but he heard (or maybe felt) it opening. A big dwarf came in, wearing a hood and cloak, looking around as if he wasn't sure where he was.

Without turning around, Oin growled, "There's a knife over there. If you're not here to chop, get out. If you're injured, there's a healer just up the street. Not as good as me, of course, but you'll live. Probably."

With a soft chuckle, the dwarf picked up the knife, made it dance across his fingers and set to chopping herbs.

Oin gave a soft grunt of approval and cut the twine on another bundle, crushing a pinch of the poorly dried herb between his fingers, eyes closed and nostrils flaring as he tried to identify it.  
   
"Don't even think I need stitches this time," the old dwarf smiled as he chopped, watching Oin carefully, eyes creased in a smile.  
   
Oin froze, the herbs sprinkling out of his fingers. That voice...He jutted out his jaw, refusing to acknowledge the other dwarf more than he had to. "Figured you were dead." He stuffed a handful of the herb into a labeled jar with too much force, and bits of dried greenery puffed free and floated to the floor to join the rest.

Khafad bent to retrieve the dropped herbs and offered them to Oin. "We were supposed to meet at that oasis, you never arrived. I thought maybe you'd changed your mind."

"There..." Oin's mouth was dry and he had to swallow before he could speak. He didn't take the herbs. "A Man arrived, looking to collect a bounty on your beard. He carried three of your braids and one of your tattoos, tanned, as proof."

Khafad's lip curled and he rubbed his beard. It had nearly grown back to the length Oin remembered, but it had obviously been quite short. "He left me bleeding, he must have thought I was dead. It took longer than I would've liked to hunt him down and take his head." He put the herbs down and offered Oin his hand, as big and scarred as ever. "I never thought you would have heard about it or I would have returned sooner."

To his shame, Oin felt his lip quiver and he tightened his jaw to hide it. He would not-- _would not_ \-- give the nameless dwarf the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he'd grieved. He wished he'd had forewarning so he could have changed his braids, which still spoke of loss and loneliness. "You did take his head, though?"

"I did." Khafad let his hand wait in the air between them, then dropped it to his side. "I..." he hauled himself up to sit on Oin's counter. "I don't have to stay. I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me."

"Well, let's have a look at you. You might not need stitches, but I'm sure you've something that needs my attention." Brusquely, Oin began undressing his ghost. He wanted to touch the dwarf he'd named Khafad, wanted to climb into his arms and cry all the tears he'd saved all these years alone, but he couldn't. But he couldn't send him away, either. Falling back on his craft was the best he could manage.

Khafad let Oin undress him, revealing new scars, but the same powerful body. He wasn't as hairy as a lot of Longbeards, but the Blacklock was dark-skinned and handsome. He'd gained a soft tummy since Oin had last seen him. There was a large pale scar over his thigh where his tattoo had been cut off. All his newer injuries were minor, however.

Oin smiled, lightly pinching the new softness. "You've gotten lazy without me. I'll have to put you though your paces, my lad." He winced sympathetically, brushing the smooth, poreless flesh of the missing tattoo. "I can't remember what it was..." Not true. He remembered it in vivid detail: the way it rippled beneath his questing fingers, the subtle difference in texture on his lips.

"Not so important anymore," Khafad pressed his hand to the side of Oin's face. "I missed you."  
   
Oin started to soften, to lean into the familiar hand, but he forced himself to stay hard. "Took you long enough to find me."

"I wasn't sure you'd forgive me, but when you didn't meet me, I thought I'd go after the man who took my braids." Khafad's jaw tightened.

"I'm...I'm glad he didn't kill you. Glad you killed him." Each word hurt, as though his throat was full of sharp gravel.

"I owe you more than I can say, but I have nothing to give you except my name," Khafad said softly.

Oin laughed, and it ended suspiciously like a sob. "I don't want that. I want..." He looked away, hands balled into fists as he fought to stay composed. "I missed you, too. But I'm sure you knew that already." He allowed himself--allowed Khafad--a wan smile. "I'm glad you're here. I missed you." He stepped into the Blacklock, his fists pounding the larger dwarf's chest before grabbing his shoulders, nails digging into the scarred flesh.

"I missed you too," Khafad murmured, letting Oin scratch at him, wrapping his arms around the other dwarf's shoulders gently. "My little Longbeard."

 "So, you killed him and then sat in the desert getting fat on camel milk, hmm?"

"I rode with a caravan. And yes, I did get nice and fat on camel milk, and caramels."  
   
Oin huffed. "Did you bring me any, at least? Get down here, let me have a look at you. I'll get a crick in my neck, staring up at you like this."

Khafad slid down to the floor, pulling a few parcels out of his cloak and offering them to his husband.

Oin brushed them aside and strode around Khafad, grunting significantly as he examined especially nasty new wounds. "Well, you're in one piece. More or less." He grinned, rather unpleasantly. "As it happens, I have something for you, too." He rummaged through his shelves, brushing bottles and phials aside, leaving trails in the thick dust, until he found a small, leather roll. "This belongs to you."

Khafad opened it curiously then immediately dropped it, as if he'd realized he was holding something venomous. "You kept it?!"

"'course I did." Oin caught the scrap and neatly rolled it again, briskly knotting it. "Would you expect anything else?" He tossed it on the counter and began tearing open Khafad's parcels with the singleminded focus of a dwarfling.

"That's a little sick," Khafad helped himself to Oin's chair and tried to look as if holding a piece of his own tanned skin hadn't ruffled him.

"Mmm. Because you and I aren't at all sick." He held each gift only briefly before moving on to the next. He was pleased with each, but he didn't want Khafad to think he'd gotten off that easily. He sniffed the herbs, popped one of the thick caramels in his mouth and chewed it, trying not to let the bliss show on his face. He and Khafad had done some very interesting things with those caramels, and the taste or even the memory of the smell never failed to make him stiffer than steel in a snowstorm. He held up a piece of desert gypsum. "Hmph. Even the flowers are stone in the desert, eh?"

"Not all of them. Some of them are flesh and blood," Khafad smiled at him, quickly forgetting his scare.

"Well, they can't be all that stunning, if you've dragged your sorry old arse all the way back here to me." He breathed caramel-scented breath on Khafad's nose.

Khafad leaned forward and kissed Oin deeply.  
   
Oin relented, his body going completely limp in the Blacklock's arms, the way it'd wanted to since he'd first recognized the other dwarf's scent and heard his voice. Tucked deep, deep in his beard was a braid that labeled him a hopeless romantic, and he'd have to be sure to discreetly remove it before Khafad could find it.

 "My little pet," Khafad breathed into his beard. "I did miss you."

"Missed you too." This time, Oin couldn't keep the sob out of his voice. "I should make you _eat_ that tattoo. Shove it up your arse where it belongs."

"Shh, my love, my heart, I'm here now," Khafad murmured sweet things and held the other dwarf as he shook and cried, letting him get it out.

"I hate you." Oin kissed his way along Khafad's face and beard, lips tracing each new line and scar.

"I adore you too," he promised.

"Not what I said."

"I must have misheard."

"Mph. Now, are you going to fuck me, or are we going to stand here and talk all night?"

Khafad picked Oin up easily, grinning. He carried him to the nearest cot and laid him down, starting to undress his lover. "You've gotten a bit of fat on you too," he chuckled.  
   
"I have not! I'm trim as a...well, maybe a little. I haven't had you here to fuck it off me. You had such creative ways of motivating me to exercise."

Khafad's big hands rubbed their way across Oin's body, enjoying the extra weight around his middle with a little pinch. He kissed each of Oin's shoulders, then his chest. "You're greyer than I remember," he grabbed a handful of the hair on Oin's chest, tugging gently.

"And you've hardly got more than a handful of grey hairs. Doesn't seem fair."

"Well," he grinned, as if sharing a secret. "I just braid them under. And colour them." He pushed Oin back onto the pillow, taking his wrists in one hand and holding them against his chest, just over the first scar Oin had ever stitched up for him. He rubbed back against the other dwarf's erection. "Got any ointment laying about for this?"

"'course you do. Vain old thing. Mmmm..." Oin lay still, eyes half-closed. He jerked his head at a nearby bottle. "Don't you recognize it?"

"No, we used every bottle," Khafad chuckled. "But I remember you not sharing your recipe with me." He grabbed the slick and poured some onto his fingers. He used it to spread himself with a finger, then two. A little went onto Oin's cock and as soon as he was slick he began pressing back, taking Oin in with a loud moan.

"Ahhhh...never. No matter how deep you...mmmm...go or how far you stretch, you'll never get it out of me. Ohhhhh..."

"You always say so, but I must always try," he growled, sheathing Oin entirely and settling carefully. "Ohhh, that's good."  
   
Oin shuddered and jerked, rendered speechless by the tight heat surrounding his throbbing cock. "Missed you. Missed this."

"Missed you, pet," Khafad's muscles tightened around his lover and his head tipped back with a groan. "My healer."

"Nhh...who's been tending you?" Oin traced a fresh, ragged scar. "Not as good as me." He arched his hips with a groan that was almost a whimper, trying to get enough leverage to fuck Khafad, if only a little.

"No one like you," Khafad whimpered, bucking his hips, his pace starting off ragged.

Pinned beneath the larger, heavier dwarf, Oin lay back and let Khafad ride him, his breath catching in his throat as Khafad tightened almost to the point of pain. "N-no one like you e-either..."

"Mine," Khafad growled fingernails cutting into Oin's skin, thigh muscles tightening around his hips.

"Yessssss..." Oin hissed, bucking and writhing at the combined sensation of nails and hot, slick ass clenched around him. "Yours. Only yours. Going to...ahhh!...cut that damn tattoo into tiny pieces and put it in your food!"

"If you say things like that I'm not going to be able to cum!" Khafad laughed, riding Oin hard and stroking his cock with one hand. "You're terrible at pillow talk."

 "...out of practice," Oin admitted. "You'll have to teach me to do it properly. And it's not pillow talk, not yet. I'm not finished."

"Neither am I," he grinned, pushing Oin's hands over his head and laying right against his lover, still fucking himself eagerly.

"Oh, Mahal's blessed whiskers, Khafaaaaaaad...."

"Bazir," he choked out, cumming across Oin's chest.

"That'd better be your name," Oin growled, thrusting into the Blacklock with all the force he could muster. At the deepest point he let loose, crying out wildly as he filled the other dwarf.

The big dwarf moaned and collapsed across Oin, crushing him slightly under his weight. "Mhm," he murmured agreeably.

"Oof."

Khafad, or Bazir, rolled off him and nearly fell off the small cot.

Oin, used to restraining injured warriors who were still full of bloodlust, managed to catch the larger dwarf. He slid over, giving most of the cot to the Blacklock and filling the gaps. "Is it?"

"It's my name," he nodded, eyes sleepy.

"Oh good. You c'n hear what I'm thinking." Oin grinned, loose and open, pressing their bodies together everywhere they could touch. "'s a good name. Wha's it mean?"

"'Low.'" He nuzzled into Oin's fluffy beard, making himself a little nest.

Oin snorted. "Bit of a miscalculation, mmm? Should've called you 'High'. You're huge."

Bazir laughed, kissing Oin's chin through his beard.

"Aren't you going to ask about mine, or do you already know?"

"Mm, what does it mean?" he chuckled.

"Not going to tell you," Oin grumbled into his beard.

"Even if I promise to fuck you senseless tomorrow?"

"Not much of a threat. You will anyway. Like to see you stop yourself."

"I have nothing to threaten or bribe you with," he sighed.

"No." Oin kissed Khafad--Bazir--gently nipping at his chin. "You haven't." He sighed too, settling against his lover. "Hope you like the taste of leather."

He made a face, but buried it in Oin's beard. "Hope you like the taste of me eating all the caramels I brought back."

"You wouldn't! I'd cut you open and pull them out and sew you up so you'd never know they were gone."

"I'm not sure they'd be any good after I'd eaten them, but you're welcome to try," he laughed.

"I don't think there's much we could do with those caramels we haven't already." Oin gave a happy shudder, his hips bucking at wicked memories. He yawned, snuggling his cold nose into Bazir's thick beard. "Not letting you go again. Don't care how many braids and tattoos I have to wade through."

"Good," he murmured. Soon enough he was snoring into a mouthful of beard.

With an exaggerated eyeroll that was wasted on his sleeping companion, Oin fished his beard out of Bazir's mouth, wiping at the drool with distaste. Tucking his beard safely out of the way and removing any incriminating braids, he curled on Bazir's chest and slept better than he had in what felt like a century.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a roleplay between my wife and I. 
> 
> Our headcanon Blacklocks are loosely based on Egyptians/North Africans. They don't have a mountain, but they built pyramids. 
> 
> Khafad/Bazir eventually died for real and Oin grew older and crotchetier and became the Oin we know and...love?
> 
> Khafad means 'Prison'. 
> 
> (Oin means 'Shy'. Shhhh...)
> 
> What did Oin do with Khafad's braids? He either burned them or braided them into his own hair/beard and he won't admit which.
> 
> [ Desert gypsum](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dSsS_AWODUA/URCIIZ0NrUI/AAAAAAAABY4/obcDkWaDqDc/s1600/desert+rose+cochise+college.png)
> 
> [Sort-of art of Khafad](http://hobbitfing.tumblr.com/post/109782738569/our-blacklock-oc-khafad-oins-husband-from-our)


End file.
